


Letters to the Institute

by Sahvot



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Inktober 2019, Letters, Not Canon Compliant, kinda angsty, this probably reads like a crack fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 04:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20901359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sahvot/pseuds/Sahvot
Summary: A deleted chapter for one of my fics; some spoilers for said fic. | Temporarily banished from the Institute of War, Diana travels Runeterra and recounts her experiences through letters to a fellow Champion.





	Letters to the Institute

**Author's Note:**

> So this is probably not going to make a lick of sense out of context. I've had this stowed away for a while after abandoning this iteration of a chapter, and since its Inktober, I wanted to dust it off a bit and publish it to give it more of a permanent place to rest. 
> 
> Like a grave really.
> 
> Ha.
> 
> This follows the old lore (pre-Aurelion Sol).

“Please state your name for the record.” 

She sighed. She hated this place; it stunk of gaudy men and dreams that had become something less than unfulfilled. She hated its high-pitched ceilings, its out-of-place stained-glass windows, and she especially hated the way noise carried and echoed throughout the grandiose hall. 

More than anything, she hated these proper, holier-than-thou men. 

Her eyes opened, fixed upon her hands sitting folded in her lap. 

“You already know my name.” 

One of the envoys gruffed. “The Institute of War will not allow you reentry if you fail to cooperate with us. Just state your name so we can all get this over with.” 

She took a steadying breath. 

_ “Nasus, _

_ Much has happened since my leave from the Institute; some of it has been well, some of it less so. _

_ It is strange and fascinating at the same time. _

_ In the last few weeks, something within me has eased substantially. I will not say that I felt bound like a prisoner at the Institute, but once I returned to the mountain, I felt so stupidly wonderful. _

_ The first thing I did was run. Oh, the joy of being able to run as fast as my feet can carry me without the threat of death behind me was blissful. I ran so far. I ran until I could not run any further. I collapsed into the grass—gods, the grass!—to feel it, to touch it and smell it and not feel the slick of blood or the scent of gunpowder was incredible. I laughed and rolled in it like a fool, and for the first time in a long time I could genuinely say I felt happy. Never have I been so relieved to have my mortal coils unravel themselves. _

_ Being on the mountain, however, also means that I am close to the Solari, and that thought unsettles me. I cannot ignore this fact, and lately I have found it incredibly difficult to sleep for all the thoughts and noise cluttering my head. During the night I often find myself sitting upon a ledge or in a tree overlooking the village. _

_ I have not set foot in it despite the incredible desire to do so and simply resign myself to watching. This behavior and sleeplessness I experience builds over the course of the lunar cycle, waxing and waning…it’s nearly maddening. _

_ I was told to stay away from the Institute because it was ‘dangerous’ for me to be there; why would they allow me to return here, where the Champion I pose the most threat to resides? _

_ I am required as per my probationary leave to consult with an official from the Institute once per week. Because I am not permitted access to the League, I travel to Demacia to do this. I have been considering finding a temporary residence there or somewhere nearby. Staying on the mountain, as much as I have missed it, feels detrimental. _

_ I do not expect you to return this or any further letters you receive from me—I do not know if I should be sending you a letter in the first place. But you understand to some degree why I feel this way. _

_—__Diana”_

* * *

_ Crunch, crunch, crunch. _

The man casted a quick glance over his shoulder as he fled, eyes wide with terror. The night wind rang wildly in his ears and stung his face. 

He took a second look and slowed his pace when the bright form behind him was no longer in his vision. He eventually stopped, his lungs aching, and bent over on his knees. After a long while he corrected himself. What he saw, however, sent fear into his heart. 

Atop a hill about a quarter mile away stood a silhouetted form. Although its features were shadowed by the moon overhead, he knew just who it was, and when its unmistakable weapon flashed in the light, he knew it was too late for him. 

But despite this knowledge he turned and fled for all he was worth. 

Diana caught up with him easily enough. She took a handful of the back of his coat and yanked him backwards. He whirled halfway around with a shrill sound, nearly losing his footing, but Diana caught him, bracing his back to her and raising her weapon to his neck. 

“Do you know why I have come for you?” He did not answer, except to give a startled choke. “I have a proposition for you,” she continued. “I will allow you to live, if you swear yourself to me.” He settled with his frantic squirming, but lividity replaced it with a barbed tongue. 

“Are you crazy? You witch, you were going to kill me!” 

A long, suffering sigh escaped the Lunari’s lips. She looked back towards the tree line. “Vayne!” 

_ Th-thunk. _

Diana’s grasp on the man remained until his frame went limp, at which point she let him fall to the grass. She looked up and found Vayne approaching her, then turned her eyes back to the body below her and shook her head. 

“What is it?” 

“You would think that when given a choice of life and death―ahh, let’s just go.” 

It was well past the allotted hours for Demacia’s residents to be out, but the quiet was broken by the clacking of hooves against cobblestone. 

Vayne was riding a few yards ahead of her; she watched the other’s crossbow as it bobbed against its owner’s back. Every so often the metal would catch a sparse beam of moonlight and reveal the fresh scarlet that coated it. 

Her eyes shifted down to her hands, where she loosely held the reins to her own horse. For a long while she was silent, thinking; she became so lost in thought that she did not notice that Vayne had slowed to be by her side. 

“You’re quiet,” Vayne remarked, to which Diana scoffed. “Is something the matter?” 

“No,” she answered simply. 

The rest of the ride was spent in silence until they arrived at the large gates of the Night Hunter’s estate. The gatekeepers opened them in advance, greeting the pair as they rode through. They diverted off the main path leading to the manor, going instead around it until they came to a small, darkened building. Diana dismounted her horse and retrieved her weapon strapped to the beast, all the while feeling the heat of Vayne’s eyes upon her. 

Diana slipped the reins over the horse’s head, walked around its front and handed them to Vayne. “When will you need me again?” 

Vayne wrung the reins in her hands and hummed. “No time soon,” she finally answered. “Perhaps next week. I will send for you.” 

Diana nodded and stepped away. For a while she watched as the other woman rode away, finally resigning herself and turning to the doorway. 

She entered the home and went about lighting the mana-fueled lamps in the primary room. The house was small and quaint, though certainly not shabby or lacking in décor. Finely painted walls embraced mahogany bookshelves and paintings with swathes of maroon and black. The pair of living chairs and sofa that adorned the room was crafted in a fashion that could only be described as Demacia’s breed of aristocrat. 

She propped her weapon against one of the chairs, then dumped her pauldrons and breastplate into it; she tossed her gauntlets and gloves into the other. She collapsed onto the sofa, hands instantly going to her shoulders to knead away stiffness. She allowed one hand to cover her eyes, and for a long while she remained still like this. Diana’s gaze finally turned to the left, to the entrance to the kitchen; from here she could see one end of the dining table, which was nearly overrun with papers and books. With a huff she rose and went into it. From the pile of papers she plucked a blank piece, retrieved a pen, and sat. 

_ “Nasus, _

_ I believe I can trust Quinn and Valor enough to relay this to you. I first would like to apologize for not contacting you for so long, and I would also like to wish you the best for the Lunar Revel; I will not be returning to the Institute in time to celebrate it with you. _

_ Forgive me; this may become lengthy. _

_ I have taken a temporary residence in Demacia as I said I would in my previous letter. At first I intended on keeping to the hills surrounding the city-state, but Vayne approached me on a day I cannot quite recall. She asked that I assist her with...personal matters, over the course of my stay, and in exchange I could live on a small piece of property she owns. _

_ I took Vayne to be the solitary type. She is strong in her own right, as fierce off the Fields of Justice as she is on them, and just as deadly. Why she asked for assistance, I do not know. I was unaware she even knew I was coming here, much less why. I did not intend on taking her offer, then I remembered the contents of my last letter and I reconsidered. _

_ But in the end, I suppose I cannot, or should not, complain. It works out for the both of us in a strange sort of way. _

_ I have learned and seen many things in my short stay here; it is evident that Demacia is not without its vices. It is quite obvious as you can imagine that I am not a Demacian, and I have received some of the strangest looks and responses since I came to the Institute of War. Sneaked glances, wayward glares, stupid questions and mockery. Many of the younger residents are quite ignorant. The older are much more judgmental. But there is little I can do about it aside from wave my weapon around; hardly an option. _

_ I have seen nearly every sort of person there is to see walking the streets of Demacia. There is the wealthy aristocrat whose suit is as sharp as his tongue, with his nose perched in the air; the dame who accompanies him, reserved, quiet and doting beneath him; I have seen the fierce warrior painted with battle; the intellect, the brute. I have seen the man without shoes; the woman whose belly is swelled with babe, but her eyes are not filled with expectation. She sits in the alley, she shudders inside of burlap; she looks at those who pass her, only to be met with cruelty or ignored completely. _

_ I think it is safe to say Demacia disgusts me almost as much as the Solari elders’ ignorance. _

_ By morning the belfries beckon its parishioners to worship, and come dusk Demacia’s theaters sing with symphonies and comedies and tragedies. _

_ It pains me to write this, but Demacia’s nightlife is not something I enjoy. _

_ Many of my early mornings are spent at Demacia’s library, but beyond the terrible piece of fiction, I have not found anything of particular interest. My spare time is spent searching for clues on the mountain; the snow, however, have prevented me from doing much of anything. I’ve resigned myself to poring over the few documents I possess, hoping I find something I have missed. Maybe I never will; I cannot tell you how many times I have read them. _

_ I am missing something. I know it. _

_My nights are spent stargazing, often from the roof of the house I inhabit; if I’m feeling especially depressed I retreat to the woods._ _It’s queer, the way the stars look from Demacia. So much light from the city, so much noise and commotion; the sky is not quite as bright here as it is on Mount Targon, and I can easily say I miss that._

_ Stargazing has been a source for both relaxation and contemplation, but the latter often sends me into horrific pits of despair. Some nights I silently marvel at the wonder of the universe, how vast it is, how beautiful a clear night is, and other days I look upon billions of lights and feel so utterly small in spite of everything. My heart throbs knowing that many of the stars above me are already extinguished and yet they are still wished upon. How many times have I done that very same thing, to wish for something I cannot have on something already dead? How pathetic of me. _

_ Often times I find myself awake to watch the Sun rise and set; it is a strange thing, but it is in these periods of respite that my mind briefly settles. It’s intriguing to watch; how the colors mix, how the air changes, how one side tries so desperately to cling to the other. Who can say in these periods which side the sky belongs to, if any? It is…beautiful to watch. _

_ And each time I watch, something deep within me pulls at its bonds so tightly that I fear I may collapse beneath its weight. _

_ I think it’s strange. How could something so beautiful ever be so violent, so cruel, so unrelenting? _

_ I digress. I hope all is well; I miss your guidance terribly. _

_ —Diana” _

* * *

The air was frigid. She inhaled deeply and it stung her lungs, but the smell of the mountain filled her and she sighed. 

Home. 

_ “Nasus, _

_ The storms on Mount Targon have persisted, but I could not allow myself to be away from my temple any longer. _

_ I frequently went to the temple during my stay in Demacia to ensure all was well there. I was unable to do this during my last week in the city-state.” _

It was still dark, just before daybreak; a sliver of the moon still hung overhead, though it was barely visible amongst ashen-gray clouds. There was snow on the ground in most places, and little to none in others. Parts of the walls and columns heading the Lunari temple were icebound. The ice glistened with the emerging dawn, turning haunted stone into brilliant shades of red and gold. 

She carefully picked her way through the patches of snow and ice and ascended the temple’s stairs. But as she came to the stair’s landing, something felt _ odd. _ She slowed each step she took towards the temple’s grand entrance. She listened carefully, her eyes scanned this way and that and her fingers tightened upon the hilt of her blade. 

Diana paused upon the entrance to search. The light rushing in from the entrance rushed to meet a column of light in the heart of the temple with only the Lunari’s shadow to break them apart. The walls to the left and right were darkened. 

A gust of cool air rushed past her. She stepped out of its path as if it were a tangible being, and her head tilted skyward to scan the temple’s heart. “You feel it, too, do you not?” she spoke aloud, but her voice was low, just a thread of a sound leaving her lips. 

_ I do, _ was the response. _ Someone is here. _

The mere chance that this was true was enough to shake the cold from Diana’s body, replacing it first with the heat of fear, then the inferno of rage. 

_ Find them. _

She was off before the command was completed 

_ “All seemed to be well when I arrived at my temple, but I discovered a body, a boy, crumpled just inside one of the archways. To say I was appalled when I found him is an understatement—the first thing I felt was fear, fear that my temple had finally been found, that I was soon to be dead. Then I was enraged; how dare someone invade my home? My blood burned, my head became clouded, and I wanted for this person to pay dearly for their intrusion. _

_ But then I became curious. _

_ If I had not had any sense in me, I would have struck him right then and there. Maybe I should have. _

_ He was soaked to the bone when I found him. It did not snow on that part of the mountain, but the air was still frigid. What truly caught my attention was the trauma across his body. When I removed his robes I discovered cuts and bruises in various stages of healing all across his body, no doubt in part from trekking the mountain, but something was different, something was…odd, about him. He was young, yet he feigned faded wounds and the signs of calluses. _

_ He had to have been of the mountain, but as to his origins I was unsure. His robes bore the colors similar to the Rakkor, but he wore no clasp, no insignia of their village. For all I knew, he could have been sent to the Solari to train under the Iron Solari. _

_ This left me with two decisions; return him to where he came from and risk my temple being discovered, or kill him. _

_ I thought about it for quite some time, but ultimately I could not bring myself to kill him. What compelled me against it…I am unsure _ . _ Many things, many more than I care to list. _

_ My efforts to wake him failed; he showed some signs of life and opened his eyes, but did not remain conscious. I took him deep into the temple. For the remainder of that day and throughout most of the night, I went back and forth between him and the entrance of the temple. I was afraid that others were nearby, possibly looking for him, but I was ready nonetheless. _

_ I told myself that I was going to return him to where he came from in the morning after I was certain he was not ill.” _

Diana woke with a shudder; a rogue blast of chilled air stung across her flesh, and she turned further into the mouth of the corridor she occupied. After a moment she leaned back over to look out into the main part of the temple; her eyes squinted, detecting something fluttering about in the air. As her eyes focused, her brows furrowed and disdain wormed its way into her chest. 

_ Please, gods, do not let that be what I think it is. _

The Lunari rose and stalked to the entrance of the temple; what greeted made her heart sink. Snow; it was everywhere. It was still falling at an alarming rate. Navigating the mountain would be next to impossible. She needed to leave immediately if the boy stood a chance of surviving. 

Her gaze turned back to the corridor. _ I cannot keep him here, it is too risky, _ she thought. She hurried back towards it, but stopped halfway there. 

_ But my temple― _

_ “I very desperately told myself I would take him back.ʺ _

“Get up,” she commanded, shaking the boy from his sleep. 

The boy groaned and his eyes opened. When his eyes landed on Diana, he froze, his eyes becoming wide as saucers. 

“Get up. We are leaving.” 

He did so, scrambling quickly out of the bed and towards the corridor. Diana’s face twisted with confusion. She went after him; she caught him around the middle and picked him up in one swift motion. He, in turn, set to screaming. 

Diana clapped a hand over his mouth and brought him out into the light. Once they were in the main part of the temple, Diana stood still and waited until he settled. Finally she said, “I am going to set you down, and when I do, I want you to listen to me. I have no intentions of harming you. Understood?” 

He made a muffled sound. 

She lowered herself until she was kneeling and carefully turned the boy around; she kept a tight hold on his upper arms. He remained quiet, though fear was still smeared across his face. Now that the adrenaline within him had faded it was evident to Diana as she looked at him that he was very ill. 

_ I cannot keep him here, not like this. _

“Do you know how you got here? Do you even know where you are?” He gave a blank stare, as if he were looking past her. “Do you feel well?” He shook his head, his eyes closing. “I am going to take you somewhere safe. I am not going to hurt you.” 

_ “But you know what they say; the best laid plans often go awry. _

_ I took him to Demacia. It took some time, but I eventually hassled Vayne for the guesthouse key I returned to her not even a week prior. _

_ I kept him for little less than a month; for much of the first five days I confined him to bed. He spoke not a word for the first two. He was too sick, in a stupor with glazed, darkened eyes. His only regard to my existence was a shift of gaze whenever I moved to or from his bedside . _

_ But on the third day―” _

“I know you,” he rasped. He swallowed and wetted his lips. “You’re the Solari witch.” 

Diana almost flinched from the sudden noise. She quickly looked up from the book in her lap “Witch?” she repeated. Diana set the book on the floor, grabbing a water skin and a flask instead. She rose and dragged the chair she was sitting in closer to the boy’s bedside. She emptied the skin into the flask, offered it to him and urged him to drink. “What I do is not witchcraft in the slightest.” She was quiet a moment. Her eyes scanned his face. “Who told you that?” 

“My father,” he began between sips.“I overheard him saying that heresy had spread to the sister village. He called it some sort of sorcery.” 

She leaned back in her chair. _ He’s from the Rakkor. _ This was not surprising to her at all; she had suspected it the moment she found him. “Word travels slowly to the Rakkor, it seems.” 

He grunted. 

“My heresy was no sudden, single act. I was _ branded _ as such for much of my life.” Her throat tightened. She clenched her jaw and for a moment she cast her eyes down. Finally, she said, “You said there was heresy in the Rakkor village.” 

“Some regard the Sun Avatar as such.” 

She recoiled. “Oh?” 

“I am not sure how much you know about the Rakkor, but she went against their beliefs. My father told me no one really speaks of it anymore. Many believe she will bring an end to the Rakkor way of life. Others think she will bring change.” His eyes closed and he drew a deep, rattling breath. “Do you know what the Rite of Kor is?” 

Diana did not respond; she remained motionless, staring at her hands. Memories of past conversations flooded into her mind, of Leona telling her about the Rakkor, the training the fighting. When she inevitably came to the Rite of Kor, something within her deflated. She became somber as she spoke, and her eyes would never quite meet Diana’s. 

“So you knew her, the Avatar of the Sun?” 

“I did.” 

“What was she like?” 

She took a moment to consider her answer. She ground her teeth and drew a deep breath. “She was― _ is, _loyal,” she finally answered. “Honorable, admirable; if she believes in something, she fights for it until it is done. To the weak she is a beacon, and to the strong, an example.” Diana finally looked up, not to him, but to the wall across her. “We were close, at one time. She and I did all we could together. To the rest of the village, I was a…an outcast, but Leona―she saw so much more, so much potential.” 

Oceans of memories came flooding back into the Lunari’s mind; quick, vanishing images from her days in the village. Books, scrolls, maps, squinting at them by the light of a weak flame or that of a full moon―images of the Solari elders and Iron Solari, their faces contorted with disgust. And then there was Leona, at her best, at her lowest; the day Diana became Chosen. 

“I have done things I am not proud of,” Diana continued. She inhaled a deep breath in an effort to extinguish the emotion that threatened to bleed into her words, shoving it deep into her belly. “But I can never go back.” 

“So it’s true then.” Diana’s gaze shifted back to him. She knew the question that was to come, but was surprised by his reaction, or lack thereof, to the implications she made. There was no malice or fear or disgust; this would have been a comfort had she not thought he was incapable of giving such a reaction in his current state. “You killed the Solari elders, didn’t you?” 

“I did.” 

“Why?” 

Diana shifted in her chair before finally pushing herself out of it. “I think that is enough for one day,” she said gently. She hushed him when he protested. “Tomorrow,” she promised. “You may ask all you want.” 

_ “The words, the questions came slow at first; some were repeated. Some were easier to answer than others―ʺ _

“What’s that mark on your forehead?” 

Her hand paused from writing. She glanced over towards him; he was peering cautiously around the doorframe. Diana suppressed a sigh as her attention turned back to the papers strewn before her, a hand going to rub the aforementioned place. “It is a reminder of why I fight.” 

“Why does it look like that?” 

“It’s, uh―a scar. I was branded by the Solari elders.” 

“But why does it glow?” 

“It is the power of the ancients, of my ancestors and yours…or magic, whatever you fancy.” 

“Does it hurt?” 

“No,” she answered, her voice feigning the smallest tinge of annoyance. 

“Can I touch it?” 

She turned in her chair this time, glaring in his direction. He darted out of sight. With a quiet sigh and a shake of her head, she turned back around. 

_ ʺThe harder questions…I answered them the only way I knew how.” _

“You said I could ask anything,” he called out to her; the annoyance was followed quickly with a curse as he stumbled in the grass. 

Diana cast a withering glance over her shoulder. “Keep up. You are going to get lost.” 

They continued in silence until, satisfied they were far from the city-state, Diana stopped. She inhaled deeply, pleasantly. It had been some time since she visited this place; a quiet, grassy knoll, perched above vineyards and groves. 

Without any preamble, she sank to the grass, sprawled upon her back. 

When the young Rakkor trod over to express his concern, her lips twitched with mirth and she said, “Join me.” 

He hesitated at first, his face contorting as though he believed she was mad, but he, too, plopped himself into the grass a short distance away from her. 

The night was dark and clear, a rare occurrence for that time of the year; even the moon was absent. For a long while there was silence between them, though the Lunari’s mind never ceased its noise. She spent the entire walk to this place thinking of answers and explanations to unanswered questions, questions from both the boy and her own. Nothing was ever good enough, nothing satisfying enough that she could erase the question, and therefore the answer, from her brain completely. It was incredibly maddening; it was as though the answer she wanted to give was simply not there. 

But it was with this very thought that her mind paused; her eyes narrowed upon the lights fixated above her. Her head turned to the direction of the other. “I apologize. What was your question?” 

“The Elders―ʺ 

“Ah, yes,” she said with a false tone of remembrance. Her head lolled back over and she cleared her throat. She inhaled and her lips parted, but paused before uttering the words, her mouth suddenly dry. The breath finally escaped her in a sigh and something within her chest deflated. “I did what I had to,” she answered, realizing how lame the words felt, the weight they lacked, as they left her lips. 

“Do you know what the Elders did to those like me?” Her head turned to find his face, discovering that he was staring at her with intent eyes. “They were slaughtered like animals, branded as such. Granted, I must have been a much larger thorn in their side…” She paused, taking time to swipe her tongue across her teeth to ease herself. “By no means should I have lived; I should have joined the countless bodies they threw to the mountain’s beasts. I do not know quite why yet, but I was spared, and in return I fight for those who were not. I cannot tell you everything. I am learning more and more each time I turn around. I may never know the whole truth; maybe I will not have to. But I will do as I must until I reach the end.” 

Silenced again reigned between them, and Diana silently hoped that the answer had satisfied him, or that he was simply too tired to muster any sort of response. As it ebbed on, she wondered if the latter was actually the case. “You’ve asked your questions of me,” she finally said, “I have a question for you.” 

“What is it?” 

“You know who I am, and you know what I do―ʺ 

He hummed in response. 

“Do you feel as though I will do the same to you?” 

“Why haven’t you?” 

The Lunari frowned, several answers to the simple question swimming on her tongue. One pushed itself to the forefront and, as she spoke the familiar words, something akin to grief ebbed its way into her heart. 

“Everyone deserves a second chance.” 

_ “In his final days with me, he allowed me to ask questions of him as he had asked of me. He spoke of the Rakkor and their ways in a placid, reserved manner. He showed me the toils of his training, and although he was but only twelve years on this world, he was rife with wounds, and he had a story for each of them. _

_ All this I took in without much alarm; I have seen it all upon the Radiant Dawn before. _

_ He never told me why he was so far from the Rakkor village; I did not expect him to. But I suspect that they thought he was dead, or deemed him unworthy, and somehow the mountain led him to me. _

_ I took him back to the mountain at night. We parted ways before we reached the outskirts of the Rakkor village; I continued to follow him in the darkness, never allowing him to leave my sight, but staying far enough in the shadows that I would not be detected. _

_ When he came upon the southern gate of the Rakkor village, two guards greeted him with their weapons drawn. My heart sank. I was on the verge of drawing my sword until I heard a sound of recognition. One of the figures removed its helmet, revealing the mauled visage of a woman. She dropped her weapon, sank to her knees, and embraced him when he ran to her. _

_ They parted, though they remained close, as if talking. _

_ Before I could so much as draw a breath, she rose with the weapon high above her head, and in an instant she cleaved him. _

_ Mount Targon teaches lessons in cryptic ways, this I have known all my life. I have seen things no mortal or eternal should ever see. _

_ I was a fool to think they would take him back. _

_ For many days and long nights I pondered what it would have been to simply slay the boy; would it have been any more merciful? No, I fear not. _

_ I have since put it out of my mind, but something aches within me still. _

_ This is not news to you, dear Curator, and for that I apologize. _

_—Diana” _

* * *

_ “Nasus—” _

The drumming of hooves against the hard-packed snow had gone on for hours, so long that she had almost stopped listening. 

_ One and two and three and four, _ she counted; each step was punctuated with a crunch and the quiet rattle of the horse’s gear. The beast was loaded with bags full of furs. A large, snowy pelt was rolled and secured just behind the saddle, and a massive pair of antlers rest on top of it. 

Despite her measures to stave off the Freiljordian cold, she knew her body would protest to her movements the moment she attempted to dismount the horse. She had taken one of the pelts, that of a wolf, and fashioned it into a mantle. Its maw sat upon her head, empty sockets bearing witness to the tundra. 

She had hardly moved from her position and had not stopped to rest despite the long journey to Rakelstake. Diana saw no other option; it was either ride all day while the conditions were fair, or stop to rest midday and potentially be caught in a storm come nightfall. 

But the journey was nearly over now; the outskirts of the city were just over the horizon. 

_ “I have spent nearly a fortnight in the wretched tundra some so lovingly call home. It feels strange to say this, but—” _

Diana’s eyes shifted up to the sky; the hood of her mantle slipped off her head, and she squinted with the sudden change of light. The sky was dark. Clouds stretched as far as she could see, and forbid the Sun to look upon the snow-covered earth. The Lunari dipped her head, pressed her fingers across tired eyes and lifted wolf skull back onto her head. A plume rose as she huffed a clattering breath and urged the horse faster. 

_ “Never have I been so relieved to feel the warmth of the Sun on my back.” _

With only a few more hours of daylight left, there were very few out faring the streets of Rakelstake. Occasionally she passed another riding on or in a carriage drawn by ice horses. Windows and doors were all shut up, curtains were drawn; the smell of smoke and burning wood filled the air. It had stopped snowing, but occasionally a gust of wind kicked up a small flurry off the ground or sent some sprawling from the rooftops. 

_ “Freiljord’s people are incredibly lively despite living in such a barren place. _

_ Yes, many people I have witnessed…all of them hardened by the snow, the ice; Freiljord’s warriors are a breed of their own. _

_ I suppose I should not be surprised; Mount Targon does not forgive its denizens either. _

_ I’ve come across several people, though many I observed from a distance. I do not receive such strange looks as I did in Demacia, but I cannot expect to go unnoticed. _

_ Yet despite this frigid brutality, there still persists some…gentler people. I was fortunate enough to find one of them—” _

The journey was over; just ahead was a squat little building that stood out from all the rest. Its curtains were not drawn; the inside glowed a bright, warm orange. As she approached the smell of leather and hot metal became nearly overpowering. 

As she brought the horse to a stop just outside, the door sprung open and a man joyfully greeted her. 

“Thorm! Thorm, lad, come ‘ere, she’s back!” 

_ “—A vibrant, jovial and talented blacksmith by the name of Gauren”’ _

He was a large man, and his stature very well matched that of his shop. His eyes were beady little black orbs which were nearly indistinguishable beneath his brows from a distance. 

“Boy, get out ‘ere, not teachin’ ya to sleep all day!” Gauren barked a final order before returning his attention to Diana, who was very carefully dismounting. “How ya been, lass? Wasn’t expectin’ ya for another day’r two.” 

She glanced over her shoulder at him before lowering herself to the ground. “Cold,” she answered stiffly. “I had some things I thought you could use, so I thought it best to bring them as soon as I was able.” 

“Aye, it has been very cold, dreadfully cold,” he replied ruefully. His face had soured with the comment, but quickly livened as he turned his attention to the wares loaded on the horse. Gauren went over to the pouches tied to it. “Looks like quite a haul,” he commented. His eye caught on the large rolled pelt on strapped to the horse’s back, but when his mouth opened to inquire a series of loud crunches and a string of profanity stopped him. He turned back to his shop, where his assistant, Thorm, was attempting, and failing terribly, at pulling his boots on. Gauren shook his head. “That lad ain’t right,” he muttered. “Come, lad, help me with the load. And you,” he said as Diana began unloading some things herself, “You get inside and warm up, Thorm and I can get all o’ this.” 

Diana tried to convince the blacksmith that she was well, but he vehemently insisted against her help. She finally turned and trudged past a decidedly flustered Thorm. As her hand pressed against the heavy wooden door, the blacksmith cursed loudly at a loud clatter, and she turned in time to watch the portly man clap the palm of his hand to the back of the younger’s head. The horse stomped and snorted in frustration. Diana shook her head and continued inside. 

As she hurriedly closed the door behind her, she paused from turning when a low growl rumbled from a far corner. She huffed a breath, the corners of her lips twitching. “It’s just me, Bear,” she said, turning from the door, a palm raised in submission. The ice dog lifted its head from the scraps of bear hide it called a bed, ears pricked. With a whine the dog rose, ears flattening, and trotted over to her. His nose twitched across her fingers before he acquiesced, allowing her to sink her fingers into the luxurious fur behind his ears. 

Diana straightened herself when he turned away. Her eyes scanned around the walls, to the various hunting trophies and Freiljordian armor that were hung upon them. A stag head was the centerpiece of it all. 

It was unsettling in its existence; even as she moved across the room, eyes that never knew life seemed to follow her. 

_ “Gauren has proved to be invaluable during my stay here; he is quiet and, for the most part, unassuming. He only asks the questions he feels necessary, which has been both a relief and a burden in some respects. _

_ But I do not want my burdens to worry him; that does not feel right. _

_ I thought I could bury turbulence in the snow, smother it, drown it beneath frozen lakes. I thought hunting with the Freiljordian fur traders would quell the impatience within me. _

_ Animals are predictable; people are not. _

_ I promised myself when I entered the snow that all my qualms would be left on the mountain until I returned. But as I watched the life of Freiljord hunt each other, a question burned clear on my mind, and it was this―ʺ _

The door swung open, drawing Diana’s attention back to it. Bear was immediately on his feet, noisily greeting the two men as they stumbled out of the snow. In one breath Gauren instructed his apprentice what to do with the wares the Lunari brought, and in another he chastised the ice dog. Thorm disappeared into another room, and Bear retired to his pile. 

“Come, come,” the blacksmith said, gesturing for the Lunari as he rounded a small counter. She complied, leaning upon the solid surface with her forearms. “What brings ya back s’early?” 

Diana inhaled sharply and her head tilted in a thoughtful way. “Well, I was going to come at the end of the week―ʺ 

“Aye―ʺ 

“I had a sudden change of plans,” she continued, “I think I will be returning to Mount Targon earlier than I anticipated.” 

“Oh.” His voice feigned disappointment. “Ah, well, the snow an’ ice ain’t for everyone.” Silence; Diana idly scratched the wood beneath her fingertips. “So, where ya been huntin’ at this time?” he continued conversationally. 

“Oh, I have not hunted. These are just, ah, some extras I had from before. If I were to be leaving―I thought you may want them to work with.” 

“Very thoughtful of ya.” 

“Mm…” 

“Somethin’ troublin’ ya, lass?” 

_ “Before he takes his life―ʺ _

She must have become lost in thought, because he repeated the utterance and she jumped slightly. “What? Oh, no, no. I am fine. I just…” She turned her back to the counter, and her eyes landed on the stag head and her heart skipped a beat. 

She quickly separated her eyes from the beast, walking instead to a frost-covered window adjacent to the door. “I apologize. I am thinking too much.” 

“That’s a dangerous thing, thinkin’ too much.” 

“Indeed it is.” 

_ “Does the stag forgive the wolf?ʺ _

“How much ya want for th’ lot of that?” 

Her mind stuttered, struggling to pull itself from the morbid question burning in her mind. “That really isn’t—” She turned, and as she did the blacksmith tossed a small bag towards her. She caught it and shifted its contents; it jingled cheerfully despite it all, and the Lunari gave the man a confused stare. 

“Take it,” he answered the silent question. “Ya ‘ave served me well.” 

With that she departed the smithy. Diana mounted the horse, wheeling it halfway through the motion, and urging it as fast as it could run through the snow. 

_ “I never found the answer to my question. _

_ I do not wish to find it, for I know where the answer lies. _

_ —Diana” _

* * *

The Sun was rising. A spectacle she had witnessed countless times. 

But this one was different, _ looked _different. This one was unique. 

The Moon’s champion shifted uncomfortably upon her perch, seated high up in some gnarled, ancient tree. Her sword was imbedded into the trunk, just to her left. 

Her eyes lifted, looking out toward the brimming dawn. Diana’s brow tensed. Her heart throbbed, her chest tightened and became hot with emotion. 

Her fingers went to the neck of her armor, where they dug beneath the front until she produced the locket buried beneath. She pulled it over her head. Diana carefully leaned back against the tree as she examined it, her fingertips carefully tracing its features. Some of the grooves on the front held rivulets of dried blood, which she idly scratched away with her nails. Other parts bore wear; tiny chinks in the metal, and the colors of the proud metal bird were beginning to dull, or it seemed so to her. 

Her eyes went back to the horizon, and her fingers closed around the locket. Her jaw tensed and she swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat. 

_ “Nasus, _

_ Today I woke to a blood-red dawn, and as the Sun rose with it, something inside me was slaughtered. _

_ I can vaguely remember a time before I met Leona in which being alone did not bother me. I did not overthink; I had no cares of death. My pursuit was solely for the truth. But the Dawn allowed me more than myself. She showed me kindness and compassion where I thought none existed. She made me weak, and some days I resent her for that. _

_ I am a mere shadow of the woman I once was; I never thought I would leave Mount Targon, much less alive. A long time ago, I would have never thought I’d see the blood of another upon my hands. I never thought I could feel nothing, and then suddenly, everything. Before I had hardly picked up a weapon in my life, I never fought any real battles; I had no need to. _

_ Sometimes I wonder how much easier it would be for the Solari, and perhaps the Dawn, if I had simply perished like those before me. I wonder what would have been had I never found the temple and be who I am today. Fanciful thoughts, though I suppose either would lead me to Death’s door eventually. It is arguable which would place me there sooner. _

_ But alas, here we are. _

_ Someone, something, tells me that I must slay the Radiant Dawn. But something lingers within me still, some part of me remembers; it tells me this is not the right decision. She is invaluable in many ways, and… _

_ If I were to slay Leona, if I were to completely abandon my past, what would I do then? It is as you said to me so long ago; what would be my purpose, then? I cannot dream to fight the Solari alone. I would be dead within a day. _

_ But when I think back to those I have slaughtered, I wonder if Leona would even consider forgiving me. What I have done is not unspeakable, especially in the eyes of the Rakkor, but there was so much more that I could have done. _

_ When things changed, when I changed, when again I was alone, I thought I could handle the weight of my obligations. I thought I could handle the silence. _

_ I have not known silence for a long time. _

_ I cannot look towards the Sun for shame of what I have done. Some days I hide away. _

_ I cannot look at the stars and Moon for fear that I have disappointed those before me. This pains me the most. _

_ I’ve tried so hard to make these thoughts go away. But I cannot seem to do so. _

_ It does not matter what I do. It does not matter where I go. It does not matter how many times I dip my hands in the water, the blood never goes away. _

_ Some days are far easier than others. But I cannot run any more. _

_ I have been told that I am allowed entrance into the Institute of War once again. If all goes well, I should arrive within a week of you receiving this. _

_ I look forward to fighting with you. _

_ —Diana” _

**Author's Note:**

> So if you managed to read the whole thing, I'm sorry you read through this mess, haha. If you skipped to the bottom or pressed off, I don't blame you. 
> 
> If you liked it great, if not, that's ok too.
> 
> Have a spooky Inktober.


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